Dear Mr. and Mrs. Scavetta,

 I am embarrassed and shocked at myself for how little I displayed my gratitude to you at the graduation ceremony on Monday. The truth is, it wasn’t until I sat in my car about fifteen minutes afterwards, set my foot onto the brake pedal, put the vehicle into drive, and didn’t move from that parking space an inch, that I finally realized the depths of your kindness, your generosity towards me – a perfect stranger – and, most profound of all, the unyielding devotion you both possess for your daughter and the craft she loved so much. For these qualities – qualities of selflessness and absolutely exemplary parental love – which are found too rarely in this increasingly unappealing world, I am left so moved under the notion that it is me who obtains this: your very generous scholarship.

 I have just finished reading two poignant, carefully-crafted works: Mother and The Night Side of the Earth, here, at my desk, where I write my every piece of work. Now I’ve set to writing my freshest piece: this letter, which I hope will display the enormity that is my thanks to you for this gift you’ve given me. Here my mind keeps coming back to two interrelated notions: “You Don’t Know Me” and “You’ve Given Me a Thousand Dollars to Pursue the Career I Spend Every Waking Moment Dreaming About”.

 And it proves that it is, in fact, a diversified universe, and huddled among the greedy people are completely benevolent souls that I will strive to make proud with every letter I ever type.

 I don’t know how I can ever thank you, except by labouring day and night to become a novelist – to achieve a status equivalent to the greats I most adore – and to promulgate and to circulate exactly what I’ve always known I have to write. And that is critical looks at the darkening picture this world is displayed in, as Elizabeth’s poem is, because it’s so unfortunately true. War, corporate strangleholds, media rule, materialism, indifference, and hatred. It’s all here. I hope to extinguish whatever I can. I hope to make the world better, and to do it in memory of Elizabeth and the writers of the world who are one and who, as you’ve proven, look out for one another constantly; always lending a helping, touching hand.

 I’ll thank you again, and I’ll never forget.

 The plaque is set on my desk now, and it stares at me relentlessly as I type away and it always will. “Mark Sant 2007-08. Elizabeth Scavetta Memorial Award for Proficiency in English”. That will be there forever. And I shall never stop thanking you, not just for the scholarship, but for proving to me that the world isn’t a lost cause. And I will write for Elizabeth, your angel, whom, from her two pieces I’ve read here tonight, I know I would have absolutely adored if I could’ve met her. I wish you both all the peace God can possibly give you, and I’ll thank you just once more.

 Thank you, truly,

 Mark Sant